Knights of The Dragon Riders: The Beginning (One Shot)
by Kurlan Aank
Summary: Just a quick rewrite of the first chapter of a fanfiction the author said I could give a try to and decided to add my own little touch to it. Just a one shot since it's not going anywhere.


Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon.

Hello ladies and gentlemen. This little tale is just something I decided to write after the original author of this story wanted to see just what I could do with it by adding my own twist to it. Hope you all enjoy it!

This is Berk. Its twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. Located solidly on the Meridian of Misery in the Barbaric Archipelago. The Hairy Hooligan tribe lived in the Hooligan Village that sat almost in the middle of the Isle of Berk. It rested just north of the Hooligan Harbor and comprised of small thatched cottages, surrounded by a double layer of protective walls. The village had sat here for several generations, but, all the buildings were relatively new. The village had several countless activities: fishing and hunting the prime candidates. However, the village suffered from a pest problem. Not mosquitoes, or mice, but –

'DRAGONS!' The shout came from the inside one of the many cottages that sat in the village. A loud bang erupted from the interior of the cottage and bright light flared from beneath the cracks of the door.

Most people would leave the village: the inhabitants of this tribe however, did not. They were Vikings: stubborn, not too intelligent and unable to accept losing. All except for one Viking who went by the name of…

'HICCUP!' The young boy looked up from his book as he heard his name echo through the cottage. Curiously, he glanced out the window and was taken by surprise as he saw a bright fireball fly by his window. He slammed his book close and placed it on the bookshelf as an impatient voice called to him again. He quickly made his way out the house and found himself in the middle of his hometown. He quickly side stepped a Viking that near him, almost slamming fully into him. Another raid by the dragons! He quickly made his way towards the forge, knowing what the voice asked of him.

As he approached the forge, the dragons that were raiding mostly ignored him, or left him to himself. Instead, they attacked the others around him. It was a strange thing to witness. For some odd reason, the dragons ignored him. Spiked or clubbed tails always seem to hold back at crushing him or slamming into him. Every single raid he had been in, the dragons had always seemed to protect him.

There had been that one time when a Hideous Zippleback dragon had attacked him when one of his neighbors had picked on him. He swore the monsters protected him, by either pulling him away, or sheltering him from harm while other villagers fought against the dragons to the death.

He reached the forge. Other Vikings were already arming themselves with weapons and armor to combat the dragons. The others shoved him out the way in their haste to get past him. He stepped inside the forge and was immediately handed broken swords and shields.

'Thank Odin ye have not been carried off, boy! Now I hope ye better start on those,' Gobble shouted. The blacksmith of Berk and Hiccups mentor made a show of limping around and hollering when the dragons came close in excitement.

'Of course, I will,' answered Hiccup. Besides how long it took to re-forge the shields and swords, Hiccup made it through the first few within moments. As more shields and swords were produced, Gobbler suddenly let out a whoop of joy, swing his prosthetic arm around. A sharp whistle soon pierced the air and Hiccup looked up from his work in surprise. He recognized that whistle and what it meant.

'NIGHT FURY!' a voice roared from the outside of the forge. Immediately, Hiccup made his way to the window in time to see the mystical dragon fly by. Even under the cover of darkness, with the occasional light of flames, and the bright moonlight that shined down from the sky, the dragon was almost unnoticeable. With its naturally dark skin and the speeds at which it moved, the only sign that you knew it was there was by the purple colored flames that flew across the sky. He was fascinated by the dragon and with every raid, it had come, and he always wanted to catch a glance of it. Ignoring his duty of the villages blacksmith, he ran outside even with Gobble's voice yelling behind him to stay inside.

He only had a small chance to see the Night Fury. Whenever it arrived, the other dragons always made way for it, quickly getting out of its way. For some unfathomed reason, the dragons were able to grab their herds and quickly escape with the sheep and yaks.

Unknown to Hiccup, in his fascination to watch the Night Fury, the dragon let out its breath weapon. A bolt of plasma raced toward him and he did not have time to move. A Monstrous Nightmare flew above Hiccup and managed to knock him aside without its bulk crushing him underneath even with the dragon being easily larger than him! It shielded him from the Night Fury's bolt with its own incredible bulk. The dragon helped him back to his feet with surprising gentleness before it flew away, leaving him relatively unharmed and cooing softly. Hiccup was in awe.

'HICCUP!' The voice of his father yelled, and he winced. His father – Stoick the Vast, Chieftain of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe – stomped his way toward him. His father was a terrifying sight when he was dressed for war. A massive battle axe was held in one hand, his strength easily able to heft the weapon. His other hand held an elaborate shield. He recognized the emotion in his father's eyes, having seen and experience it beforehand. Rage. 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING, BOY!' his father yelled, his voice carrying throughout the village. Most people would try to keep their children away from the carnage of a dragon raid, but not Stoick. His father was concerned about why his son was not taking up arms with the other teenagers that fought in the dragon raids, trying to put out fires with their buckets and panicking like chickens with their heads cut off. Despite being holding the honorable position of blacksmith of the village and producing arms and weapons while the raid was going on, his father expected him to be in the middle of the fight.

Before he could reply, a Gronckle slammed into his father's back as if to tell the chieftain to leave his son alone. The chieftain turned his rage onto the dragon and began to beat the monster with his shield. The dragon let out cries as the massive man pummeled him and Hiccup winced with each cry. When he was finished, the dragon was crying out, blood leaking from various wounds across its body. Stoick was prepared to attack the dragon again when he noticed that the dragons were retreating besides them already retreated. A bolt of plasma darted from the sky and slammed into their house, the dragon returning for some odd reason even after it retreated.

The Dragons won for now…

Stoick out of anger, rounded on his much smaller son and violently struck his arm with his shield. Hiccup yelped in pain, somehow not having his arm broken despite his father's larger frame and his immense strength.

'You were supposed to be in the forge, why are you not in there?!' His father exclaimed. Instead of asking if his son was hurt or checking him over to see if he was injured, his father asked why he was not in the forge making arms. Not even a 'Thank Thor' for not being carried off by a Nadder. Just why he was not in the forge, or out fighting like the others.

'I just wanted to see the Night Fury! Is there something wrong with that?' He knew that he had to give his father some sort of answer. His father would be even more angry for what he thought was his son ignoring him.

'Get inside the house now!' His father shouted instead. Hiccup gave him a strange look in reply. The house that the Night Fury had just set on fire? Was his father insane? HE glanced at his house and to his surprise, the flames were gone, and it was in perfect condition as if the dragon had not just sent a fire ball at it. He shrugged and ran toward his home and inside, running up the stairs with an unnoticed spring in his step.

Inside his room, the attic to no one's surprise, he was clad in his faded green tunic and brown leggings. He had taken off his brown body armor as soon as he arrived. His auburn hair was sweaty as he felt fear run through him. His gaze was on the door to his room and he began to shiver in trepidation. He tensed when he heard the door to their house slam open and the thudding of his father's feet on the stairs. Loud and thunderous, he heard as they made their way up to his room. A pause just before they reached the attic room before the door was thrown open.

Hiccup laid on the floor suddenly as his father appeared in his room. He sprang forward, suddenly, grabbed his sons arm with one large hand and slammed his fist into his son's face. Hiccup was thrown to the floor, the back of his head crashing into the floorboards. For some reason, his fathers fist never caved in his skull, since he was sure the man put full force into his abuse. 'You need to start listening to me, boy.' Even as he listened to his father, he punched him again, this time in the stomach. Hiccup tried to shield himself from his father that was easily twice his size and larger than him. No, surprise his efforts were ineffective. 'Why… do… you… never… do… as… your… told,' he growled out, punching, or kicking his smaller son after each word. It was a miracle his son survived being beaten by his father that was twice his size. Hiccup did the only thing he could. He begged for mercy and cried in fear.

'No… more,' he managed to whimper out. His father hit him once again before he did stop instead of beating his son to death. The man hissed and stomped away, disappearing down the attic doors. Hiccup knew his father needed to drink after beating him. Hiccup remembered, after one of his father's rages, he had spoken that he beat him and drank afterward because he reminded him of his mother. If that made sense.

Hiccup decided to move when he heard the front door slam close as his father left. Blood ran from his mouth and despite being beaten by someone twice his size, he was only badly bruised and sore. For some reason, he always survived his father's savage beatings without any broken bones. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled to his bed. He clambered into his bed, whimpering whenever he moved his body and closed his forest green eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

HTTYD

After beating his son, Stoick left his house to the main hall to grab a drink and think about what if his son wasn't so useless. I mean, sure he helped crafting their arms and armor and repaired their shields and weaponry in a few minutes, but he was still useless. It's not like they need weapons, or armor to fight the dragons. He noticed Gobbler approach him and sighed. He knew what he did to his son was wrong, but he did it to follow tradition and because he could. So many things were wrong with that statement.

'What am I going to do? My son will destroy this village when he becomes chief.' Gobbler remained quiet. He knew that Hiccup did not listen to his father because said man was abusive to him. Even with his son being arming the villagers, he still thought his son was useless.

'Listen, Stoick, why don't you lay off him for once in your life? You'll kill him at this rate,' Gobbler said.

Stoick looked at him, responding: 'Look at him, he has the attention span of Sparrow, he can't lift a finger to a single dragon and he does not follow tradition.'

'You can't keep doing this to him, sooner, or later, he'll go off and join the Outcasts, the Berserker Tribe, or that tribe that worships the Changewings.' Stoick looked up at that, having looked at something else during Gobbler's speech. He did not want his son worshipping some acid spewing dragon that his tribe was in league with their worst enemy.

'I'll kill him if he does,' Stoick grumbled.

Gobbler face palmed and said: 'I didn't say he would join 'em, I said he 'may' join them. They never even have the strength to kill one.'

Stoick got to his feet and made his way to the door. 'I may as well go back home and rest and if I see Hiccup with one of those hatchlings, I'll beat him and making that hatchling watch!' With that he exited the room.

'What would Valka think?' He mumbled to himself. Somehow Stoick heard him and reappeared, holding a mug of mead in his hand.

'She wouldn't even know, because she's dead, all because my son did some horrible thing that doomed his chance at a better life.' Stoick finished his mead and left the main hall since drinking mead always made him have a headache if he stayed up.

HTTYD

The sun peaked over the mountains, bathing the Isle of Berk into dawns early morning light. Dawns early light shined into Hiccups face and he opened his eyes slowly. He shielded his eyes to protect them from the glare and he sat up slowly. He carefully leaned against the headboard of his bed, being mindful of his aching bruises and sighed gratefully that his ribs weren't broken. He would need to see Gothi for some herbal salve for his bruises. He also needed to ask Gobble for the day off, to rest and recuperate. With that thought in mind, he pushed himself out of bed, hissing in pain as his abused body protested at his latest beating at his father's hands. He, carefully, stripped off his clothes and then put them back on for some reason, grabbing a nearby knife and hiding another up his sleeve.

He snuck past his father's room, hearing the deep snoring that signaled he was in a deep sleep. Probably from all his drinking last night. He crept down to the kitchen, snagging a fresh roll of bread from the cupboard and snuck the rest of the way out of his house. He made his way to Gothi's house, knowing that the village elder would be awake at this time. He made sure to do so slowly, not wanting to wake any of the other villagers from their deep slumber. The village was still quiet, this early in the morning.

Gothi's house sat at the edge of the village, overlooking the sea. She mentioned the sounds of the waves were calming and never intruded on her mediation. The garden she tilled was full of helpful herbs and she watered them with the small well. As he approached, the door opened, Gothi appearing in the door way.

'I hate to bother you this early, elder, hope I didn't disturb you.' The elder's silvery hair was braided over her shoulders and worn a simple robe. She gave him a gentle smile and stepped aside with out a word. 'Thank you, elder.'

The elders house always smelled of lavender and chamomile. Several charms hung from the ceiling and a few of the charms had been drawn along the wall. A fire was crackling merrily in the hearth and along the table were two plates of salmon and cups of tea sat beside it. 'Please, sit and eat. You need your strength.' Hiccup winced as she pushed him into the chair, his bruises acting up slight and the elder frowned. She watched with steely gray eyes, examining him carefully. She prompted him to eat and slowly he dug into his meal. The elder sat across from him and they quietly enjoyed their meal. Hiccup drank the tea slowly, quickly figuring out that there was some sort of painkiller in the tea. The aches that plagued him earlier began to disappear.

'Thank you,' he whispered. The elder silently nodded her head. Most of the villagers disliked him, calling him Hiccup the Useless, and Toothpick. A few of the others even called him Destruction of People's Lives, if they were being rather vicious. The only ones who were nice to him were Gobber and Gothi. He had a feeling his uncle did as well, but he hardly saw him. Lost in thought, he continued eating. So, lost in thought, he almost did not notice that the elder slid a small metal tin across the table. The slight lavender smell told him immediately what it was.

The elder had made this concoction for him for after the first time he had gotten one of his ill gained beatings. The lavender-based paste was a powerful healing salve and when used with water, it removed any muscle aches, or pains that he had. It also gave off a rather pleasant smell and he used it as a soap. Finishing his meal, he stood and bowed his head at her. 'Thank you, elder.' The elder only smiled at him. He snagged a prepared sandwich from her and left, thanking her once again, knowing that he probably would not see her for the rest of the day. The villagers always wonder why the elder was so nice to him and the one time that they tried to start a start a few problems with him, the elder made sure to let her ire be known to them.

He still chuckled at some of the curious ways the elder's other salves had worked on those other few.

The elder watched him go with a sad smile and she prayed to the Gods, for the boy. 'I hope he finds his way soon,' she whispered as she looked toward the sky. She disappeared back inside the house, thinking. She toyed with the idea of having words with the boy's father, but that man refused to listen. She had spoken at length about the chieftain's son's destiny, but he had always blown her off and refused to listen, she hoped he would before it was too late. It was sad that the village would probably receive the boy's wrath as well. With the chief abusing his son, the villagers had taken to ignoring it as well. Ever since his mother had died by that dragon, it had happened. She shook her head sadly and prayed once more for the boy.

Hiccup made sure to tuck the tin into a pouch along his belt. He wanted to keep it hidden from his father for as long as he could this time. His father had once stumbled across the tonic and had tossed it out and his beating that night had been rather fierce. He hadn't been able to visit the elder and when he could again, he made sure to keep it hidden always.

When he reached the forge, Gobber was hard at work already. He was hammering away a new sword.

He gave him a look over and Hiccup tapped the pouch at his side. 'Ahh, the elder's healing tonic. Always wondered how the old woman came up with that. I assume, she gave ye a bit more?' He nodded. 'Alright, ye know the drill.'

'Thanks, Gobber.' He responded and exited the back window of the forge. It was something they did to make sure his father never found out he skirted his duties in the forge. Most people saw him enter and assumed that's where he was all day and if anyone asked his location, Gobber always said he sent him off to do something.

What he would do was go to his secret spot. It was cove, hidden in the forest; secluded and perfect for him to get away from it all. He collected his drawing supplies from beneath a hidden hidey hole, Gobber had fashioned for him and slung a bag over his shoulder. He made his way into the forest and when he was under the cover of the trees, he journeyed to his hidden spot. His green eyes were alert for any others, watchful as he made his deeper inside. His father sometimes sent patrols out after raids to see if any injured dragons were still around to hunt them down. This time there were none, thankfully, and he quickly found the secret path that lead to the cove.

It was a steep slope that led to his cove and he was surprised that no one had found it yet. The slope practically had steps carved into it, but then against it was hidden, so he made sure to keep it hidden for as long as he could.

When he was there, he paused in the entrance, enjoying the beautiful scenery. A slight chill was in the air, but the cove was beautiful as always. A large crystal blue pond, surrounded by all sides by equally beautiful lilies. The mountain framed in the distance added to it and he let in a slow deep breath. He grunted slightly when the pain began to return.

He pulled off his clothes, pulled a towel out of his bag along with an ensemble of bathing supplies. Unlike, normal Vikings, he enjoyed the occasional bath and tried to slip away as much as he could to his cove to have a wash. Another different thing about him and the others in his tribe. He set his supplies down at the edge and dived inside the water. IT was soothing and refreshing, and he relaxed for a moment, floating in the pond, gazing up at the sky. He ignored the ache on his body and once the pain settled into discomfort, he grabbed the tin and a small washcloth. He dabbed the cloth into the tin and began to rub his body, the bruises and muscle pain disappearing almost immediately as he rubbed it along his skin. He made sure to pay extra attention to the tattoo he had gotten ages ago in some way to defy his father. A man had come into the village at some point, shouting about some sort of magical ink that went onto one's skin. In defiance of his father, he had gone out and got it.

It was purple-black ink that coiled up and down his arms and went up his shoulders and onto his back. What imagined the Night Fury looked like had been placed on his back. The Night Fury itself was flying over a crescent shaped moon. A sad smile passed over his face as he looked at the tattoo from his reflection in the water. He shook his head and quickly washed himself off as he realized he was getting cold. He swam around bit more before he pulled himself out of the pond and dried himself off with his towel and dressed himself in a spare outfit he had.

His cove had a small circle of rocks and he grabbed a few dry branches and with a stick of flint and a striker, he soon had a blaze burning merrily. He sat near the fire and brought out his drawing materials and paused, thinking of what to draw exactly. Nothing came to mind. He sighed and pulled out a metal cup from his bad and a few tea leaves that the elder had packed into the tin. He smiled at the thoughtfulness of the older woman and grabbed some of the pond water and began to boil it over the fire. With his quick mind, he fashioned a pair of tongs with wet branches and when his metal cup was boiling, he stirred the tea leaves, let it sit for a while and drink began to sip on the tea slowly, savoring.

The tea calmed him, and he briefly wondered if this was one of the ingredients for the elder's painkillers. He felt his body begin to relax and he grabbed his sketchpad once again and began to draw in it.

Soon, he became lost in the drawing, his mind focused on the image he could see in his minds eye. He took occasional sips of his tea, as he drew, the tea relaxing him still and when he was finished, he threw the dregs into the fire to keep it somewhat going. He got so lost in his drawing, that he didn't realize the fire had gone out. Unknown to him, the sun continued to chart its progress across the sky and when he finished, he noticed that dusk was fast approaching. Starting in surprise, he dropped his piece of charcoal and held up his masterpiece in the light, so he could see it.

In a few places it was smudged by his darkened fingers, but it was still beautiful to look at. It was almost an exact replica of the cove, the mountains standing proudly in the background, the pool glimmering with carefully drawn points and the trees and grass that grew around the pond capturing the peacefulness of the setting. He smiled at his handy work and put it aside. He put his supplies away, washed his fingers in the pond before he shoulders his bag and left the cove behind.

He was almost home when he heard a noise. A soft, almost unnoticeable growling sound. He tilted his head, trying to capture where the sound was coming from. His heart beat was thudding in his ears and he almost did not hear the noise again. This time it was accompanied by a frustrated noise and the sound of something thudding around in the under bush. He made his way carefully to the sound, his heartbeat thundering in his ears before he finally stumbled across what was making that strange noise.

He paused in frozen surprise as he saw the dragon that was in one of the many traps that was scattered on the outside of the village, traps that he thought he had gotten mostly rid of. Looked like one of them had gotten away from him. Carefully, he set his bag down and as he moved to the beast, he wondered what kind the trap had captured. At that moment, the moon shined its lights down and stopped.

The dragon had jet-black scales covering its entire body, its sides covered in a pattern that reminded him of a manta-ray. The dragon had two sets of wings, one set on its main body and another near its tail, he noticed as it trashed around. A healed scar was on the dragon's right shoulder/neck area a foot in length and an inch in width. Bright green eyes were near the front of its face and immediately landed on him as he approached.

This close, he recognized drawings that he had seen in the pictures of the classification of dragons. He opened his mouth to speak the words, but it caught in his throat. His mind immediately supplied him with the unsaid words.

Night Fury: the unholy union of Lighting and Death given form. The most elusive, dangerous dragon know to the Vikings. No one had seen one properly, except him. Hiccup the Useless, Toothpick and the Destruction of People's lives was the first to see a living, breathing Night Fury up close.

The dragon let out a pathetic sound that tore at Hiccup's heartstrings. The monster stared at him with its cat-like eyes and closed its eyes in a resigned sort of way. Hiccup freed his knife from its sheath along his belt, his minds already thinking. It would take one quick thrust, right in the creature's eye and he could probably slide his blade deep enough into its skull to kill it painlessly. He could bring back its corpse to the villagers and his father. Perhaps they would be proud of him for killing a Night Fury and bring back its corpse to the village. His father would accept him, and the beatings would have to stop when he realized his son could take the life of a dragon, the first being one of the rarest, dangerous dragons to the Vikings. Just one little thrust, and his life would change.

He could not do it. The way the dragon just sort of… gave into its fate reminded him too much of something… himself perhaps? 'I can't kill you… you remind me too much of… me.' He whispered to the Night Fury, brokenly.

He tightened his grip on the knife and was suddenly near the dragon, pulling at the ropes and sawing through them. His glanced this way and that when he sawed through the first half, searching around for any villagers and listening to see if he could hear anything in the underbrush of the forest. He began to hack at the other pieces of rope but found that he did not need to. One moment, he was still cutting the ropes, the next he was on his back, the Night Fury above him.

The flying reptile was not hurting him, instead, looking him over curiously. This close, he realized that the dragon's eyes were an interesting shade of green-yellow. The dragon stared at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. The dragon's head reared back, and Hiccup raised his arm, and closed his eyes, thinking it was going to attack. The sleeve on his left arm pulled back at the motion and the magical ink on his arm glowed a bright translucent blue color. The spines and ridges along the dragon itself glowed the same color as the tattoo. When it opened its mouth to roar into his face, the same ethereal glow came from inside the dragon's toothless maw. He expected his life to end at that moment, but strangely, the pressed of the dragon disappeared from his chest and he heard something crashing around in the underbrush. He laid there for a bit more before he slowly – hesitantly – opened his eyes.

The Night Fury was gone.

The young boy climbed, shakily to his feet. The dragon had let him live. When he saw that light just behind his eyes, he thought his cruel existence was finally over. Looks like it wasn't quite finished yet. He glanced around, wondering what scared off the dragon. He looked around at his surroundings and soon had another terrible thought. It would look rather strange if he stood in the middle of the traps and a villager stumbled across him. Dangerous, he realized after a thinking carefully. He would not have to worry about his father killing him. The villagers would do that themselves. A few of them would probably be even smart enough to realize that it was he that had been destroying the traps around the village.

With that thought, he was spurned into action. He picked up his fallen knife, made sure that he did not leave anything behind and quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the trees and leaving behind the evidence of his actions.

In the underbrush of the trees, a pair of green-yellow eyes watched the boy depart, thoughtful and full of wonder and sadness.

HTTYD

There you go, TheLegendaryBlackDragonKnight, I decided to rework the first chapter of your story and put my own little touch to it. Removed some pieces that sounded redundant and was a bit choppier, or just did not make sense in it. I'll give this tag of being a humorous one shot because while I did enjoy typing this up, I really do not want to take the time to get involved in this fandom since as beautiful as a world it is and how lore heavy it is, I would rather not get drawn into an another good one.

Enjoy! And to those who do like it, please do leave and review, or a like and go ahead and give TheLegendaryBlackDragonKnight's story Knight's of the Dragon Riders: The Beginning since this is based on the first chapter of said fanfiction. Toddles and have a good evening, ladies and gentlemen.


End file.
